Written in the Stars
by mossywind
Summary: The Snow Prince never expected the Atmorans to become stronger than Elvenkind. His people had ruled for many millenniums, but their world was slowly changing. War must be declared against the humans. But when a woman is captured by the Falmer, will their idea of the Atmorans change?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is quite an experimental fanfic. I have never tried anything like this, but I would like to know your thoughts on this. The language used between Snow Elves is Sindarin, a language that Sindarin elves of Middle Earth use. I apologize that I must use this tongue, for there is no Falmer language or Elven language, for that matter, translated in any Elder Scrolls game. The Elven languages used belongs to Tolkien._ _**Warning: A lot of OC's.**_

_"I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold_

_And leaves of gold there grew_

_Of wind I sang, a wind there came, and in the branches blew,_

_Beyond the Sun, Beyond the Moon, the foam was on the sea."_

_-Galadriel's Song of Eldamar, by Tolkien _

_(xxx)_

The Snow Prince looked upon his beautiful, golden kingdom. Never could life get any better, for the beautiful Elven ruler. If only those damned humans could be wiped from the face of Nirn. They were becoming increasingly.. prevalent, especially in his kingdom of Skyrim.

"My Lord, the Lord Finriel requests an audience with you." Arch-Curate Vyrthur announced.

Lord Finriel was the King of one of the lower regions of Skyrim, not as powerful as the Snow Prince, but powerful nonetheless. Finriel would be a significant ally in the upcoming events.. The Snow Prince hummed in both appreciation and thought.

"Send a Courier to Lord Finriel. Tell him I shall meet with him on the third of Heartfire. Thank you for delivering this information to me, Arch-Curate." The Snow Prince requested. Vyrthur was a trustworthy companion he had known for a millennium. In fact, there was nothing he couldn't trust Vyrthur with.

Vyrthur bowed his head to his King in respect, and left his King's chambers. Yes, it was true, the King of the Falmer was known as "The Snow Prince", though he was indeed a King. A mighty one, whose dominion was vast and powerful. In the past, he was known as King Ilmarin. Over time, his reputation had produced the name "Snow Prince". Ruler straight tendrils of snow white blew in the frosty winds of Gaiar Elesar, King Ilmarin's kingdom. Falmer were completely resistant to the cold, for they had inhabited this snowy, frosty region of Skyrim for thousands of years.

The Snow Prince stood proud, looking over his people walking the pathways from his balcony. His people were a beautiful race indeed. Their skin was as white as fresh snow, their eyes the lightest of grays, sometimes with traces of green in them. They were the tallest race in Tamriel, even overriding the golden-skinned Altmer, their Elven kin. The Snow Prince wasn't an exception either, for he stood taller than any Falmer within his kingdom. Every living creature that had spoken to, or had been in the presence of the Snow Prince, had respected his lordship. Truly, an Elf worthy of the title of King.

Ilmarin left his chambers, instead choosing to appear in the Throne Room of his massive palace. Taking a seat upon his golden thrown, Ilmarin resisted letting out a sigh. He was every inch the controlled, calm, and commanding King. It seemed that out of nowhere, the Marchwarden of his army appeared.

"My Lord, my sentries tell me that the barbaric humans have been spotted along the road to Gaiar Elesar. They mean no harm, but it is your say in whether we attack them or not." Marchwarden Rumaril said.

"Do not attack them, but question their purpose. They have no place in my Kingdom. If they should become hostile, attack them. I trust you will carry out those orders, Rumaril." Ilmarin answered.

"Yes, my Lord." Rumaril bowed his head in respect to the King and marched out of the Throne Room with a few of his comrades.

Life for King Ilmarin was hectic, but for the few moments of silence he was given, he reveled in it. His wife entered the Throne Room, taking a seat next to her husband. She was surprised, and offended, that her husband did not greet her, or make a comment about her remarkable dress that she was wearing.

"Greetings, husband." Queen Talanwil spoke.

Without even turning his head, he responded, "Good afternoon, my wife."

Was she really that clueless? Did she not suspect that he knew that she had an affair with the Marchwarden? Yes, news tended to get around. And it tended to get around fast, even in a vast and large elven kingdom like Gaiar Elesar. Of course, he would not place the blame on Rumaril. Ilmarin understood why Rumaril would sleep with Talanwil, for he was a male as well. However, he would confront his wife in his chambers later, if not only to save himself from the embarrassment of having an adulteress as a wife. Talanwil was beautiful, with her long, snow-white hair and beautiful, wise, gray eyes. It was difficult for any male, human or elf, to resist her charms. While not a whore herself, she did enjoy taking partners outside of her husband.

Ah, how he remembered fond memories of when he first wed his wife. They had loved each other in those days, so long ago, but their love for each other was waning. Why must adultery ruin what was once a beautiful, blossoming relationship?

The vain woman even had the audacity to speak to him as if nothing happened! Despite the.. issues.. he was dealing with, with his wife, he would try to pretend as if nothing happened. He was, after all, an expert at hiding his emotions. Beside him, his wife held her head high and proud, white earrings dangling from beneath her white head of hair. An intricately woven crimson-coloured Elven dress decorated and flaunted her slender figure. How he used to take pride in himself at having such a lovely wife. He prayed to Auri-El that those feelings would once again come back, but they never did.

After hours of sitting, brooding actually, in his Throne Room, Ilmarin rose from his elegant throne, and began his way to the Chapel of Auri-El to commence with his God. This was a ritual that was performed every day before sun down, and as King, he was required to stand alongside the Arch-Curate while invoking the spirit of Auri-El.

Elves arrived inside the Holy Chambers of the Chapel, and took their rightful place on the floor, while chanting prayers to the Divine Lord, Auri-El.

"May our lord, Auri-El bless those who are faithful. And those who are not, may He enlighten." Vyrthur preached.

The prayers ended, and elves began to leave the sacred chamber of Auri-El. Again, the Snow Prince began to think about the Atmorans holed up at Saarthal. They had lived in relative peace with the surrounding Elven races, even the Dwemer, which was an impressive feat. Truth is, they were beginning to become as common as Elves. The entire race of men was.. barbaric, to say the least. The Snow Prince was not bothered by the human, Nedic tribes living in the neighboring province of Cyrodiil, since they were quiet and kept to themselves. After all, he did make trades with those humans at times.

These Atmorans, however, were proud, and aggressive by nature. Not to mention their somewhat leader, Ysgramor. Ysgramor and his two sons, Yngol and Ylgar. They had the nerve to settle Skyrim! True, the Atmorans had been settled in Skyrim for centuries, but they had never been a hassle until now. Ilmarin did not even bother to hide his hatred of these.. barbarians, who lived in wooden shacks, killed horkers for their meat, and used crude weapons instead of magic! Ilmarin did not plan to attack.. yet. He needed to know he had an ally in this war against men. Intellexion was a.. potential ally, for he harbored a unique hatred for any, and all human kind. But there was a problem as well, for Intellexion was a Chimer, and therefore was an ally to the Dwemer. Falmer weren't really on _good _terms with the Dwemer.

Lengrenac was the Lord of the Dwemer, whose underground kingdom was vast and powerful. Ilmarin and Lengrenac had engaged in a cold war before, but had stitched the rents afterwards. Both desired power, and both were arrogant. But their relationship now was okay. "Okay" meaning that a conflict could occur between the two kings at any time. Although the Dwemeri Lords had a hatred for all-things-human, they would not rush to help any Falmer, instead choosing their Chimeri allies.

Hours passed, and a courier arrived, bearing the news that Lord Finriel would arrive tomorrow morning, precisely at dawn. Something must've been urgent, for Lord Finriel never had a precise timing for anything. He had a knack for arriving late to councils, fashionably, of course. If his need to speak with Ilmarin was that urgent, then the Atmorans must've bothered the Falmer again. They were relatively passive, and annoyingly ignorant to the land of Tamriel, but they were peaceful people. They sometimes traded with neighboring Falmer kingdoms, but those Falmer, too, were annoyed by the Atmorans' ignorance. Especially because the arrogant, proud, Ysgramor himself directed the trades. How Ilmarin hated Ysgramor! His sons were.. polite. His sons would've made better rulers than their father. They knew that speaking to Elvenkind would demand respect. But Ysgramor, he was different. A problem, a threat. He was a broad-shouldered, tall man, but nonetheless, Ilmarin did override him in height, like he did all others.

When Talanwil passed by her husband, chancing a glance at him, but finding herself wrapped up in his cold, hard gaze. He was angry, and, by Auri-El, he knew. He knew she had slept with Rumaril. She prayed to Auri-El that was not the case.

"A word, my wife?" He asked her. Leading her up to their private quarters, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, my Lord?" Talanwil spoke hesitantly.

"I have heard, and recently, you have slept with Rumaril, my Marchwarden. Is this true?" He questioned angrily. She could tell, in his eyes, he was being serious, and games would not be played tonight. No attempts at lying, persuasion, or coercing would work.

"Yes, it is true, husband. I slept with the Marchwarden. I apologize." She said, though Ilmarin would have none of it.

"No apologies are needed, my wife. If I ever hear that you are sleeping with another man in this Kingdom, I will banish you from my hall. We are married by the grace of Auri-El, surely you would not forsake that? I believe our marriage can still yet be redeemed in time. You will follow my orders, Talanwil." Ilmarin ordered as if he was ordering his wardens.

"I vow that you will never hear of my sleeping with other men in this kingdom ever again. You have my word, husband." Talanwil stated. He so badly wanted to believe her. He did not want to banish her, though, so he would.. try.. to believe her.

She placed a white hand on his chest, attempting to undo the ties of his tunic. Tonight, she wanted to show him that their marriage did still mean something to her, though it was a small meaning. She knew he would forgive her for this, but never forget. He kept grudges. But by bedding her husband, she could butter him up, so to speak. Meaning he would be less hateful in the morning if she did so. Ah.. the perks of being a beautiful woman!

He abruptly grasped her hand, stopping her trail of caresses. "Not tonight. I am angry with you." He stated.

"Yes, husband." She whispered, gliding over to the balcony where she stayed for most of the night.

He knew she regretted her mistakes. He regretted having to threaten to punish her for them, but she did need to learn her place. She was the wife of a King, therefore she could not go against him in any way. Besides, wouldn't that be treason anyways? While lounging in bed, he watched after her, and how the white tendrils of hair blew in the wind. How he used to cherish that beautiful, ruler-straight, white hair. How beautiful she used to be to him. In the early days of their marriage, he would whisper to her every night how much he loved her, and tell her how magnificent she looked in a dress. Now, now.. it was very different between the two. They were distant now, for they no longer communicated about their problems like they used to. He remembered when he loved his wife with all of his heart, when he would do anything for her. She had changed immensely.

The King soon fell asleep, after which, Talanwil took her place beside him. She stared at his sleeping figure, gazing at his beautiful, and regal features. Once, she prided herself for having the most handsome husband in Gaiar Elesar. _Once. _

(xxx)

After all nobles awoke, and were ready for the council with Lord Finriel, including Ilmarin, they made their way toward the Council Hall. Seated were twelve of the wealthiest, and most powerful Falmer rulers. Ilmarin took his place at the head of the table, with Lord Finriel on the other end. Rumaril took his place beside his King, knowing that if an argument started, he would be the one to settle it.

"Lord Finriel, I am honored to have you as a guest on this pleasant morning. Your urgency to meet concerns me, however. What is that shall be discussed this morning?" Ilmarin politely asked.

"I believe that the humans from Atmora have recently been growing in population. They are a problem, especially on the roads. They do not show proper respect in meetings, they are.. alien. Their weapons are made of iron, and steel. Their fighting is of the most barbaric. They do not fear death, My Lord Ilmarin." Finriel stated with disdain.

"Yes, Lord Finriel, the matter has also fallen on my shoulders. They are but a small tear in the fabric of our life, but that tear is growing larger by day. I do not have any qualms against trading with them, or living in peace, yet they should learn the boundaries between elves and men. I understand that they have made their lives here for a few centuries, but they do not know this land like us. This land belongs to the Mer, and no one else. We will not allow the world of men to become stronger than us. I do not anticipate this tension between our kind and men to become war, but if it is war that is needed, it is war I shall declare. With your blessings, my kin, we shall declare war on these Atmorans." Ilmarin declared, as if giving a noble speech to an army. How could he possibly say something so simple, yet it come out so nobly? Well, he had been alive for a few millennia, and he was loved by all of his people.

"You have my blessing, my King. Though I believe we should send scouts and spies before we charge into battle. To learn their weaknesses, we must first learn about them, no?" Finriel responded.

"I agree wholeheartedly, Lord Finriel. I shall send ten of my wardens, and ten of yours, to Saarthal by evening. We will learn about their culture, their religion, and their weaknesses. If one of our men can manage to secretly capture one of their people, I will gladly reward them for their efforts. We will be taking captives, Lord Finriel. The Atmorans are not to know this. It shall be kept a secret between our armies. I will not declare war upon these humans until I learn of their intentions. If I can draw boundaries upon this land, I will agree to that. Compromising, so to speak. However, if they do not agree to this, war will be declared." Ilmarin stated.

"Very well, my King. I shall send ten of my wardens. Rumil is the Marchwarden, he shall be watching over my wardens." Finriel said.

"Then everything is settled. They shall leave by twilight, with our blessing. Please, _mellonin __(My friend), _stay for awhile." Ilmarin invited, since he had not spoken with his dear friend, Finriel, for a few years.

The Council of elves disassembled immediately, leaving only Ilmarin and Finriel sitting at the Council Table together. It had been years since they had been able to speak with each other privately, away from all of the troubles of the court. They really were dear friends, even if they didn't speak to each other frequently.

"How is your wife, Talanwil?" Finriel inquired.

"She is well, Finriel." Ilmarin answered.

"Something is troubling you, mellon (_friend_). Do tell me what it is." Finriel said.

"Last I heard, you're not the ruler of the Falmer Kingdom." Ilmarin spoke in a playful tone, knowing that Finriel was the only elf he could let his guard down with.

"She is committing adultery again, is she not? It is what I suspected, then." Finriel guessed.

"Yes. Have the rumors reached your kingdom as well?" Ilmarin asked.

"I am sorry, mellonin, but yes. She is very well known in my kingdom for that. She is not a bad woman, Ilmarin. How is it that with everyone you are bothered by, you can put them in their place, yet when it comes to your wife, you cannot? Have you not seen me put my wife in place before?" Finriel asked.

"I have warned her last night for what seemed like the thousandth time. She is reluctant to follow my orders, Finriel. Though she is committing adultery behind my back, she is still dear to me in some ways. I once loved her, Finriel." Ilmarin explained.

"Do you not still love her?" Was Finriel's response.

"I do not know, Finriel. But something I do know, is that she will not be too fond of these Atmorans. If one of our wardens do succeed in capturing one of their people, they will have to be kept away from my venomous wife. She bites." He said, to which Lord Finriel chuckled and answered,

"As you wish, my Lord." Finriel responded, clinking wine goblets with Ilmarin.

(xxx)

_A/N: So how was it? This is a really **iffy **and **experimental **story. I have never tried anything like this, but I am taking a chance. I do apologize that these introductions are quite long, and can be boring, but I promise it will soon be more climatic and eventful. I sincerely hope you enjoy this first chapter, and please tell me your thoughts on this. _


	2. Chapter 2

It was a warm day, in Saarthal, considering it was Heartfire. The snow flurries that were previously built up on the ground were now melting, allowing the Atmorans to once again see green, growing grass. Unlike in Atmora, snow melted here. There were seasons, many seasons. Four seasons! Where as in Atmora, there was cold, then there was freezing.

To Frea Sivikssen, the changing of the climate and season was fascinating. All of her life, she had only witnessed snow, ice, and rain. Now, there was warmth in the air, even if it was still bitter outside. How long had she waited to soak up the rays of the sun? She could not even begin to count the years. She had heard many rumors of Tamriel, from Atmorans who had explored before Ysgramor, but now she was seeing for herself this new world. This was precisely why she sailed with Ysgramor's crew.

Frea was a scout for the people who lived here. Her role was important enough, and she could get it done right. She was small, and agile, making her perfectly suited for being a scout. Though she was naive, and still a little immature, the Atmorans close to her had no doubt that this land would toughen her up.

The people of Saarthal were bewildered by her enamoring over the elves of Tamriel. She was simply fascinated that such a race so different from hers existed. Their skin was flawless, unlike the humans she was surrounded by daily. Then there was their ears. Their ears were perhaps the strangest thing Frea had ever witnessed. They were pointed! Why were they pointed, she always wondered! She thought back on the trades with the nearby Falmer Kingdom and the elves that had arrived to make the trades. She reached a small, pale hand towards her ear, feeling the soft skin that was there. Her ears were round, like all of her kind. This confused her, making her frown. By no means was she stupid, or dimwitted, for she was probably the most intelligent and well-educated woman in Saarthal, but she was oblivious, and sometimes ignorant in her endeavors. Most of all, she was ignorant of the land.

What were the others to expect? She was a young, curious woman ready to adventure this new world, not unlike many others in Saarthal. What made her different was that her father was a noble among Atmoran society. He was a close friend to Ysgramor, which meant she was watched by many, and expected to follow orders without putting up a fight. Many times she was scolded for being too cowardly, not being able to raise a sword or bow against an animal or human enemy. Truth is, she had never killed anyone, and she didn't plan to as long as she was here.

Nonetheless, Ysgramor smiled upon Frea Sivikssen. She reminded him of his own daughter in Atmora, perhaps a bit more naive and curious, but the resemblance was still there, for they both had those large, green eyes that shone bright like the sun's rays.

"Frea, would you like to join me while I go fishing?" Svidi Strong-Arm asked.

"Of course, Svidi!" Frea practically beamed, jumping up from her sitting position on a rock.

The two women fished in what they called the "Sea of Ghosts", for there was absolutely no wildlife, the exception being horkers, and a rather plentiful population of salmon. If Frea was good at anything, it was fishing. Of course, Svidi had always been her mentor when it came to fishing. The woman could hold both her own in hunting and fishing, and fighting. Svidi didn't earn the name "Strong-Arm", for nothing. Frea had always looked up to Svidi, both figuratively, and physically, for Svidi was near the same height as all of her male comrades. Still, the woman could have her feminine moments, like right now, while giggling at a joke that Frea had told.

"Have you ever thought about those Snow Elves that sometimes trade with us? Their ears? Why are their ears so pointy?" She made a gesture with the points of her index fingers, while chuckling.

"I have thought the same thing! They are so odd, those elves! Their language is so.. complicated!" Svidi explained.

"I'm sure the Falmer would say the same thing about us, Svidi." Frea voiced. And she was absolutely positive that the Falmer did speak about their unique, and.. odd-sounding language. She couldn't blame them, for even her own Atmoran tongue was almost foreign-sounding in this land.

Frea had also heard the way the Nedic peoples of High Rock and Cyrodiil spoke. They spoke in a similar language to her own, yet with different vowels and sentence structures. Sometimes, while trading, she could understand what they were saying to each other. If only her father would allow her to go through the jungles of Cyrodiil, and the craggy mountains of High Rock. It was probably for her own good, because she wasn't a good warrior anyway, just a good sneak and a good archer. That's really the only reason she came, because of her great scouting skills and keen eye.

"I got one!" Frea yelled, pointing towards the salmon caught on her line.

Reeling in her catch, she smiled gleefully when she learned it was indeed a beautiful salmon that she caught. Svidi also smiled, knowing she was going to eat good tonight, if their good luck stayed around. She congratulated Frea, patting her on the back like a mother would. Frea did look up to Svidi like a mother, for the woman was older than her, wiser, and a formidable warrior. But if Frea wanted to _be _like Svidi, she'd likely have to grow a few inches, _a lot _of inches.

The two women didn't know they were being watched, however. They were being spied on by the wise pale gray eyes of Rumaril, whose footsteps were unheard by even the keenest ears of the animals of the forest. His orders were to observe Atmoran society from both at a distance, and by communication. He and his wardens were to learn their culture, their ways. Since Mer were taught the language of the common peoples of Tamriel at an early age, it was easy to understand what the two Atmoran women were speaking about. The humans did have a sense of humor, yet they insult Elvenkind, and they have the audacity to say that Elven language is more complicated than Atmoran. Rumaril heard the joke about pointed ears, too, which was the reason his face bore a deep frown at the moment.

This woman, whose name was Fr- Frea? Rumaril believed her name was indeed Frea, Frea.. Sivikssen? Her hair was the color of.. deep gold. It was auburn, but with a touch of golden blonde. He had never seen hair of that color, not even on the beautiful Chimeri women whose hair was sometimes uniquely colored. So these Atmorans bore strange unique hair colors, like their neighbors, the Reachmen of High Rock? And their skin was the palest he had ever seen on any human race, but its coloring was still similar to the Reachmen. There was too many similarities, it was difficult not to notice..

"Sir, shall we be moving on now? I do not believe there is anything to be seen." A warden crouched behind Rumaril spoke quietly.

"Yes, Gildor." Rumaril answered, coming up out of crouching position to make way towards Saarthal.

Despite the fact that Rumaril and his wardens were here to spy, it was also due time to trade with the Atmorans. So, he and a few of his wardens made their appearance near Saarthal, walking towards the Atmoran guards on duty. With his head held high, he spoke to the nearest guard.

"We are here to make a trade with your leader, Ysgramor. I am the Marchwarden, Rumaril, and these are my wardens." Rumaril announced in an almost haughty voice, showing how the Mer race could perfect even the most guttural and vile language known to Tamriel. Auri-El forgive him, but he just couldn't help it, he hated these Atmorans as much as he held hatred for the trickster god, Lorkhan.

"Welcome, Marchwarden. I would invite you inside." Ysgramor seemed to all but jump up from behind the Atmoran guards.

Rumaril offered a stiff nod, motioning to his wardens to follow him through the city of Saarthal. It was difficult for Rumaril to hide his disgust while gazing at the all of the crude, iron and steel weapons the Atmorans kept on their hip, or on their back. While elves favored a swift, thin blade and a longbow for combat, or even magic, these Atmorans used crude weapons and iron shields. Ysgramor himself wielded a large, steel battleaxe on his back.

It seemed like the leader of Saarthal led Rumaril and his wardens through endless halls, until finally they arrived in a room filled with bars of silver and gold. Rumaril would admit that even he was impressed that the barbaric Atmorans even _had _the ability to mine. He wouldn't say it aloud, however, for he was about to trade with the Atmorans, and gain many bars of precious gold and silver. How envious the Dwemer would be of them when they figured out how much the Falmer were gaining now!

"I offer you 500 pounds of gold, and silver, for 100 pounds of White Marble." Ysgramor proposed.

So, the Atmorans were becoming greedy, now? They were seriously exchanging 500 pounds of both gold and silver, for cheap Ayleid White Marble? Did they not know that all they had to do to gain White Marble was to travel to Cyrodiil, and find it cheap? Rumaril wouldn't spoil it however, for there was much to gain in these tradings. It mattered not to him that the Atmorans were still ignorant to the value of common merchandise among Tamriel. If they wanted a cheap, Ayleid item, they would have it.

"We have an agreement." Rumaril spoke.

"Maen banga (_Clever trade)_." Gildor commented to Rumaril. Ysgramor raised a brow in confusion to the elves' use of foreign language, but chose to ignore it nonetheless.

"Nae, al an ti (_Alas, not for them_)." Rumaril replied, tempted to chuckle at the clever remarks being made against the Atmorans.

When agreements were settled, Rumaril and his wardens left Saarthal, exhaling the putrid air they inhaled while surrounded by humans. At least Rumaril could file a report to King Ilmarin about the many pounds of silver and gold he would receive. Still, Rumaril had to wait for Rumil and his wardens to arrive. Rumaril disliked Rumil for many reasons. One, Rumil was not very.. punctual, to say the least. Two, he was sly, and untrustworthy. Nonetheless, Rumaril served the Kingdom of Gaiar Elesar, and took orders from its ruler, the Snow Prince, and would work with whomever he was tasked with, even if it was.. Rumil.

"Sorry for the wait, Marchwarden. We were spying on a few of the residents here. Apologies." Rumil stated.

"You are forgiven, sentry. Do make sure you are more punctual next time, however, for I will not be as forgiving." Rumaril responded, earning a glare from the elf in front of him. Rumaril was trained his entire life to keep a stoic face in all endeavors, even when dealing with rebellious and sly mer such as Rumil. He would not argue with a sentry, a warden below him. That was far below his title.

Rumaril tucked a braided white strand of hair behind one ear, waiting for a report from Rumil's party of scouts. Finriel's Kingdom just wasn't as reliable as Ilmarin thought, even if the Kingdom was rather large. Rumaril sensed Rumil's anger, however, and knew that Rumil had perhaps found nothing of importance.

"Ysgramor has two sons, Ylgar and Yngol." Rumil reported.

"I have known that for quite some time, Rumil. You are providing me with useful information, but I need more. We must unravel the inner fabrics of this society, this barbaric culture. You recall King Ilmarin's orders, and Lord Finriel's, yes? We are to collect valuable information. I would like for my wardens and your scouts to work together. I will stay here with Gildor for the time being. I await your arrival back here." Rumaril ordered, to which Rumil huffed a sigh. It wasn't hard, was it? Besides, it was Rumil's duty to carry out the King's orders.

Rumil left with ten wardens, ready to scour the area for any clues on this Atmoran society. Rumil was being spied on, as well, to which he was oblivious to. Frea was the scout at Saarthal, it was her duty to watch for anything suspicious around these outsiders.

It didn't look like this elf was doing anything suspicious, though. He was only overlooking the city of Saarthal with a few of their "wardens". This elf, whom she learned was named "Rumil", had shoulder-length, snowy white hair, in some parts of his hair, there were many.. unique braids. Intricate braids, that Frea had never seen. The elf was tall, like all elvenkind, but not as tall as that elf, "Rumaril", who traded with her people at Saarthal.

Seeing as she had no reason to follow Rumil, she decided to head out of the snowy forest, walking towards Saarthal once again. But she was abruptly pulled at the collar of her shirt by the same elf that had made a trade with Ysgramor. She spun around, looking the elf straight in the eye.

"What do you think you're doing, _girl_, spying on my wardens?" The elf questioned her in a haughty tone that she had heard many other elves speak in.

"Sir, please let me go! I mean you no harm, I was only hunting!" Frea pleaded. She was lying about the hunting part, but she really meant them no harm!

"You are lying, _human_. Were you sent out here, to investigate?" He asked.

"No, sir! It's my job! I'm a scout. If any of you are acting in a suspicious manner, it's my job to investigate!" She said.

"If I see you spying on _any _of my wardens, I will not hesitate to end your life. Get out of my site!" He shouted at her, letting her go. He watched her run out of the forest, looking back at him only once. Hopefully, she wouldn't report this 'activity' to anyone at Saarthal.

"In echils del enni (_The humans disgust me_)." Gildor commented to the Marchwarden.

"Im car al estel ennas banga (_I do not trust their trade_)." Rumaril stated.

"Lín innas rinc ammen (_They will trick us_)." Gildor said.

"Lín vanyë cuinar an nara i gwanod (_They would not live to tell the tale_)." Rumaril answered, whilst lightly chuckling.

So, the Marchwarden waited for a couple of hours for Rumil to return, until the sly elf finally showed his face. Rumaril straightened his posture, and inclined his head slightly in greeting to Rumil. How did Lord Finriel tolerate such unpunctual behavior from a warden? Well, Lord Finriel himself was unpunctual himself at times as well. Perhaps it was a trait of all that lived under Finriel's rule?

After doing a mental eye roll, Rumaril greeted, "Have you found anything, warden?"

"Missives. They are allied to the surrounding Nedic tribes." Rumil answered, handing over the missives sent from neighboring tribes.

"Why have they allied themselves with Nedic tribes, Rumil?" Rumaril asked.

"It seems that the Atmorans are having a cold war with a nearby tribe in the Reach. No doubt the Reachmen have been bothering these Atmorans. They are preparing for a war with some Reachmen, Marchwarden." Rumil replied.

"Very well. You have done as I asked, good. With this information, we shall return to Gaiar Elesar. We were told to observe this culture for an extended period of time, but I believe we have the answers that King Ilmarin seeks."

(_xxx)_

"Floki!" Frea yelled, searching for her friend.

"I'm here, Frea!" Floki called back, excited to see Frea.

Since the two had arrived on the continent of Tamriel, they were inseparable. The two were also enamored with Elven culture, and liked to spend time studying and discussing it. Of course, since there was only a limited source of tomes on the subject of Mer in Atmoran language, it was rather difficult to do at times. So usually, they spent their time discussing it, rather than studying it.

"Did you see them? The elves!" Frea exclaimed.

"Shh! If your father hears about your interest in these elves, he'll seal you away in a tomb! You know he distrusts them.." Floki warned.

"But why? They're beautiful.. Their language is so.. unlike ours. Their hair is spun from the softest, white silk. Their eyes.. you could become lost in those eyes.." Frea commented.

"Are you talking about the Falmer in general, or the males? It seems like you are fawning over the males instead, Frea." Floki said.

"Wha- Never!" Frea spoke, "It's not as if you didn't fawn over those Chimer women, Floki. You know their beauty is beyond compare. You'd never admit it, though!" Frea said, while chuckling loudly. It was true, though, Chimeri females were beautiful. Their skin was dark golden, their hair color could range from light blonde, to ebony, and their eyes carried a pale golden hue.

"You still didn't deny you stared after those elven men, Frea. Don't let it slip that your enamored with them, Frea, especially around your father. He'll have both of our heads." Floki stated.

"Have you found anymore tomes on the Falmer of Skyrim?" Frea asked.

"You know the Falmer do not interest me as much as they interest you. I, myself, am interested in the Ayleids of Cyrodiil. I have learned that there is a neighboring country below Skyrim known as Cyrodiil. Many of our people know of this country, but some do not. It is ruled by the Ayleids. There are many great under and above ground cities. Sadly, though, it seems that there is a limited number of tomes on the subject of Ayleids in our language. However, I did come across a tome about Falmer the other day. It is about their language." Floki told her.

"Their language? How in Oblivion did you find it?" Frea questioned, both surprised, and suspicious, of how Floki would obtain this tome.

"The Reachmen that attacked us a few days ago.. One of the tribesmen had this tome on them. Their language is similar to ours, very similar. It would be easy to translate, Frea. And since I know you are interested in these Falmer, I took it from his corpse."

"Thank you, Floki. It does mean a lot. But.. they were acting suspicious earlier. They were watching Saarthal from outside the city boundaries. One of them had caught me spying on them, and asked if I was ordered to spy. I said no, and that it is my job to investigate suspicious situations. I do not think he meant any harm, Floki. But he frightened me, those eyes of theirs seem to pierce right into your soul.." Frea answered.

"Did you learn their names?" Now, it was Floki's turn to ask questions.

"All I got was Rumaril and Rumil. And I believe I overheard Ysgramor say that their Marchwarden is Rumaril..?" Frea replied.

"Yes, Marchwarden is a rank within Elven society. A Marchwarden controls their army. A captain, I guess you could call it, though much more noble. This elf that you saw is most likely quite the celebrity in Gaiar Elesar." Floki said.

"So they don't call their army of elves 'soldiers'? They call them wardens instead?" Frea asked.

"Yes, wardens. Do not forget that their society and culture is centered around heritage, nobility, and money. Their society is so much more superior and intricate than our own. For instance, a Marchwarden is a celebrity in their society. It is most likely that they are known around a Kingdom." Floki said. This is why Frea would always take up her questions with Floki. He was a genius, and he literally read every tome that he had hundreds of times, just so he could recall the knowledge in times like these.

"And.. who is King Ilmarin?" Frea wondered.

"King Ilmarin is the King of all Snow Elven people. To us, he is known as the Snow Prince. To them, he is titled both 'Snow Prince', and King Ilmarin. His kingdom is Gaiar Elesar. Supposedly, he has lived for three thousand years."

"Have you ever seen him?" She inquired.

"Gods, no! If only I could be so lucky as to meet him one time, even if it were on the battlefield. He is known to be a proud, honorable, and yet ruthless ruler. His kingdom is vast and powerful, as you can see. He rules over all Falmer. He is also supposedly seven feet tall."

"Wow.." Frea exclaimed. Elves really were tall, she guessed. Taller than her own people, as most Atmoran men were over six feet tall. But this Snow Prince, he dwarfed all the Atmoran men in Saarthal. He sounded beautiful, just beautiful..

"Who do they worship? Have you figured that out yet, Floki?"

"They worship a God named 'Auri-El'. In our tongue, he is own as Akatosh. There is a temple, near us, named the 'Chantry of Auri-El'. It is their main place of worship, I have figured out. Nonetheless, their religion is fascinating. They visit a temple everyday at noon, to pray to Auri-El. They are devoted chapel-goers, it seems." He said.

"Interesting. You are simply a genius, Floki. Yet you know hardly anything about these Ayleids." She commented.

"I wouldn't say hardly. I know of that stone, that marble, that Ysgramor traded with the one they call Rumaril. It is worthless. Absolutely worthless. Our people think of it as a rare prize, a rare stone, I assure you it is entirely the opposite, Frea. Yet we are giving up 500 pounds of gold and silver for Ayleid Marble? They have tricked us, Frea. The Ayleids use that stone for everything they build. It is far from rare, it is abundant." He stated, surprising Frea.

"You mean to say they have tricked us? They merely agreed to a trade, Floki. If we were tricked, it is entirely Ysgramor's fault for agreeing with it. If you promise you won't tell Ysgramor this, I promise I won't. It just wouldn't be fair to rat them out." She said.

"Agreed. It is Ysgramor's own fault that he made such an idiotic trade." Said Floki.

"Let's study more." Frea said.

_A/N: I would like to hear your thoughts on this story, so please let me know what you think. I won't be able to continue this if it's not entertaining. I realize it is not the ideal Elder Scrolls fanfic, but it was entirely experimental. It is quite difficult to write the Falmer and Atmoran culture, as there is little to no background on either. Nonetheless, I hope you are enjoying._


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